


we are shining stars

by daisysusan



Series: go on as three [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Genderswap, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - F/M/M, girl!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisysusan/pseuds/daisysusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't occur to Liam exactly how important it is to talk about things in a complicated relationship, at least not before he messes things up by accident (but not by himself).</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are shining stars

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [go on as three](archiveofourown.org/works/527584), because apparently I still have loads of feelings about that universe. Thanks to [torakowalski](archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski) for reading this over for me, and of course to everyone who told me (repeatedly) that it wasn't terrible.

Harry and Liam are always the ones who end up going to the supermarket. It feels strange to say always; Liam’s only been figuring out the ropes of his new relationship with Harry and Louis for a few weeks now, but they’re already falling into comfortable patterns like they’ve been doing this for years. He’s not sure how they managed buying food without him around. Louis is completely at a loss when left to his own devices, and generally just buys a lot of microwave soup, and Harry is a fantastic cook but can’t be relied on to remember everything they need.

That’s why Liam goes along with her. She comes up with all the ideas—and does most of the cooking—and Liam makes sure they don’t forget to buy flour and eggs. 

He enjoys it, though, watching Harry twirl confidently around the aisles, grabbing boxes and bottles Liam’s never so much as glanced at and then getting to watch as she turns them into meals that are leaps and bounds better than the ones he was eating by himself. 

Sometimes she lets him help, curls around his back to help him stir and press soft kisses to his neck when he does a good job; Liam’s learning, slowly. But Harry is a patient teacher and Liam is more than willing to work for his reward-kisses, even though he’s fairly certain he would get them even if he were doing everything wrong. 

Today, though. Today, Harry spends the entire time they’re shopping bending and twisting and twirling around in a slightly-too-short skirt, and Liam spends the whole time trying desperately to keep from staring at her legs and not draw attention to how he can see the edge of her lacy knickers when she spins about. 

As soon as they’re through the door of the flat, Harry drops her bags on the floor, disregarding the meat she’s bought that needs to be put in the refrigerator, and shoves Liam back into the wall, kissing him hard. Liam kisses her back on instinct, because he’s nearly used to kissing her by now—or at least he’s as used to it as he thinks he’ll ever be. He winds one arm around her waist, dropping his bags to the floor as well, and hauls her in until she’s flush against him from shoulder to hip. 

Harry hums contentedly into the kiss, pulling Liam’s head down to kiss him more thoroughly. 

They’ve not done this before, not just the two of them. They have a lot of sex—a lot of spectacular sex, really—but Louis is always there with them, licking up Harry’s neck or trailing his fingers down Liam’s arse or kissing them each in turn until they’re all dizzy with it. Briefly, Liam considers pushing Harry away, slowing the kisses until it’s something they can keep at for hours, whiling away the time until Louis gets back from work. Maybe that would be the right thing to do. 

But Harry’s already rolling her hips against his slightly, whimpering into his mouth when he bites at her lower lip, and Liam doesn’t have that kind of self-control. Not when Harry’s holding him so close it feels like she might be trying to climb him and, well, they’ve been busy and it’s been a few days since all three of them were together and able to do anything more than a bit of kissing. 

Fuck it, Liam thinks, and he pushes against Harry, spinning her around until she’s the one flush against the wall. The noise she makes when her back hits goes straight to his dick, like an electric current rushing through his body but a thousand times better. 

If they’re doing this, they ought to do it properly. Liam untangles one of his hands from where it’s found a home in her hair and uses it to push her tiny skirt up, exposing her knickers. Which are also tiny. Tiny and made entirely of black lace and Liam wants nothing more than to take them off her with his teeth. That might tear them, though, and he’s also fairly interested in keeping them in one piece so she can wear them again. 

Ignoring her knickers for now, difficult as it is, Liam runs his thumb up the inside of Harry’s thigh. She whines high in her throat and he leans down so that he can nip at the skin just under her chin. It’s not enough to leave a mark, not yet, but he enjoys knowing that he could. 

It’s nicer when he and Louis both get to leave marks on her—once they sucked identical lovebites, one on either side of her neck, and Harry spent the days it took them to fade touching them distractedly and smiling. 

But right now, Harry is rocking against him, trying to get him to move his hand up between her legs instead of drawing abstract shapes on the inside of her thigh. Liam grins at her and she smiles back, despite her obvious frustration. It’s too soon to be in love with her, really, but he thinks he might be most of the way there regardless. 

Leaning in to kiss her, Liam ghosts his fingers across the spot where her knickers are getting a little damp. She whimpers, rocking into his hand, and Liam pulls his fingers away. 

“Liiiiiiiiaaaaaaaam,” Harry whines, turning his name into about ten syllables. Liam cocks an eyebrow at her. Well, he tries to; Louis is much better at it than he is, but Harry seems to get the message nonetheless. “C’mon,” she says, smirking up at him. She’s all eyelashes and dimples and a smile he knows she knows is seductive. 

He never really had a chance, especially when she squirms against him, clearly seeking friction. 

“Is that how it’s going to be, Haz?” he asks, breathy against her ear. Harry just bites and sucks at the skin below his ear; Liam’s going to be fielding uncomfortable questions about his sex life at work tonight. 

Because it’s the middle of the afternoon—after Harry’s lectures and before Liam’s shift starts, but while Louis is still teaching—and he’s got a gorgeous girl pressed up against the wall of the flat that’s nominally his. It’s all so new and they keep trying to keep from being together all the time and then just falling back into each other’s flats and sofas and arms and beds. It’s too early to so much as think about moving in together, even if there are three toothbrushes in the bathroom and a pile of essays in childish script on the coffee table waiting for Louis to read them and Harry’s textbooks stacked by the sofa. 

“Earth to Liam,” Harry says, and then she kisses him hard on the mouth. Her teeth are scraping along Liam’s lip and her tongue is searching his mouth and it’s all he can do to remember how to breathe. 

“Right,” he breathes into the kiss, the word swallowed entirely by Harry’s tongue and slick lips moving against his. Liam groans softly when she lets her fingers card into his hair and scrape along his scalp, kisses her harder and pulls her closer until they’re as close as they can possibly be while still clothed. 

His hand is resting on her thigh, dangerously close to the edge of her knickers, and Liam wants to touch even more than he wants to see her writhing in desperation. Sliding his hand up, he slips one finger under the edge of the lace and runs it up and down—too close and too far all at once, he knows. He lets his thumb brush lightly between her legs, over the folds her knickers are hiding from him, but stopping just short of her clit. 

“Hurry _up_ ,” Harry says. “We haven’t got all day.”

“Hush,” Liam says. “We’ve got time for this.” And then he hoists one of her legs up so it’s wrapped around his waist—he has no idea if this is comfortable but Harry doesn’t protest and, well, she would if she weren’t okay with it. It’s one of his favorite things about her, she’s always so good at knowing what she wants and not putting up with things she _doesn’t_ want. Liam’s always been shit at both those things, and he’s more than a little envious of her. 

But right now he mostly wants to tease her until she’s blushing and panting and on the edge of coming and then he wants to do it again. Maybe it’ll let him work off some of the jealousy. Mostly it’ll be fun and he’ll get to watch her, which is more than a fair reward. 

One of his hands is out of commission now, holding Harry’s leg up around his hips and stroking the soft skin of her thigh. It was poorly planned, he realizes, because now he can’t get her knickers off properly, can’t slip them down her slim legs and then really be able to get his hand on her. But then, they’re up against a wall and neither of them has so much as taken off their shirts.

And it’s a tiny strip of lace in any case.

Liam pushes it to the side one-handed and strokes lightly across the skin he exposes, soft and not quite where she wants him. Harry just presses down into his touch, wiggling her hips and clearly trying to force his fingers over; Liam obliges her, kissing away the soft noise she makes when he finally touches her properly. 

Harry rocks down when he slides a finger into her, her mouth going a little slack against his. She feels amazing, slick and warm and moving against him so easily, like they were made to do this. Liam lets her rock against him for a few moments before adding a second finger and watching her eyes flicker shut. He twists his fingers, changing the angle and the speed until Harry’s gasping every time he thrusts them in, and lets his thumb rest against her clit. 

“Liam,” she gasps, harsh and broken. Liam has to press his face into her neck for a moment to keep from losing all control of himself and just rubbing off against her hip. The way she says his name, desperate and wanting, is always more than he can handle. When Louis is there it’s both easier and harder—easier because there’s someone else to take over when he’s so turned on he can barely make his hands work but harder because having Louis there just makes everything so much more overwhelming. 

Liam adds another finger, moving all three slowly, and presses harder against her clit. Two small circles of his thumb in time with the sharper thrusts of his fingers and Harry’s clenching around him, even tighter and hotter than she’d been before. It’s not quite like feeling her around his dick but it’s still incredible and Liam has to work to steady his breathing enough to be able to speak as she’s coming down. 

“Do you want to go again?” he asks, in part to see her eyes go heavy-lidded, breasts pressing up against him as she breathes heavily. Harry makes a noise that he’s pretty sure means yes, and when she kisses him, yanking his head down to hers, any uncertainty is erased. 

\--

Eventually they drag themselves away from each other long enough to put the food away, only to fall into Liam’s—their—bed, curling up half-dressed and kissing until they fall asleep. It’s more than a little decadent for them to be napping in the middle of the day; Harry has work to do for uni and Liam needs to shower before work, especially now that he smells of sex. 

Nonetheless, they wake some time later to Louis shaking them and telling Liam he needs to get ready for work or he’s going to be late. 

Louis’s whole face changes when he pulls the duvet off them and sees that Harry’s shirt is half undone and Liam’s not wearing anything over his boxers. They’re both clearly sex-disheveled, not just sleep-disheveled, and Liam’s stomach feels like it’s filled with lead when he realizes what they’ve done. Louis’s face is closed off now. Liam’s seen it like this before, but only a handful of times and it’s never been directed at him before. 

Suddenly, he desperately wants to go to work, just to get away from Louis’s guarded eyes and the way Harry won’t look at either of them. 

It hadn’t seemed like much, just a bit of fooling around and then a nap, but maybe this is something they need to talk about. 

Maybe they won’t ever have the chance to talk about it, maybe Liam will get home from his shift and Harry and Louis will be gone and he’ll never see them again. Maybe Louis will leave but Harry will stay. That ought to be better and it isn’t, not really. Liam feels so selfish wanting it, but he does, he desperately wants them both and he doesn’t want to wake up in a bed that isn’t too crowded, tangled up in limbs that aren’t his and unsure whose hand is touching him where. 

When he thought earlier that he wasn’t always very good at knowing what he wants—well, Liam had never even dreamed something like this might happen but now he can’t think of anything he’d want more in the world. The idea of either of them—both of them—leaving makes him feel sick, and he hurries to shower, change, and run to the pub before he actually does worry himself sick over it. 

It’s Friday, and Liam closes tonight, which means it’s going to be a long time before he’s home. Last week, Harry and Louis came by after Louis got home from work and sat at the bar for hours. Liam’d introduced them to Niall and Zayn and they’d all got on fantastically. Before the night was out, Louis and Zayn were cackling into each other’s shoulders and plotting god-knows-what, and Harry and Niall were making ridiculous faces and trying to force each other to fall off their stools from laughing. 

He doesn’t expect Harry and Louis this week.

But Niall bounces in a little while after Liam’s shift starts and drops into his usual seat. “Liam!” he says cheerfully, and it makes Liam’s heart twist a little because he can’t keep from thinking of how Harry had said his name earlier and how spectacularly wrong everything might go. He smiles thinly at Niall and turns around, pretending to mess with the pint glasses while he sends a quick text to Louis— _sorrryyyyyyyy_. 

Louis doesn’t answer immediately, and then Liam’s too busy chatting to Niall and serving customers to check. It’s good they’re busy tonight; it means he doesn’t have a lot of time to stand around hoping his mobile will go. 

Still, Niall is looking at him at bit oddly, like he can tell that something is wrong. Eventually, he stops chattering about his new boss who evidently thinks that llamas are hilarious and comes in every day with new llama jokes to tell everyone, and looks at Liam seriously. 

“Mate,” Niall says, unsmiling. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Liam says, though his jaw clenches as he does. Niall still looks concerned. Liam doesn’t think he’s felt his mobile vibrate, which means Louis hasn’t answered and Harry hasn’t said anything and—well, he’s not really fine, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to Niall. 

“If you need to talk,” Niall says, trailing off. This time, at least, Liam’s smile is genuine. 

After that, Liam’s really too busy to talk anyway. At some point, Zayn comes in and settles down next to Niall. Liam watches them giggle and argue good-naturedly about football and action movies and whether they _really_ need to put ads on Craigslist to find more people for their band, and he discounts their drinks because he really does love them so much it hurts. They stay past closing, drawing Liam into a pointless argument about which superheroes would win in a bar fight while he cleans up. 

Before they leave, he hugs them both, letting himself go a little slack in their arms and reminding himself that it’s only been a few weeks with Harry and Louis. If everything falls apart, it won’t be as bad as the last time, it won’t be after years and promises and naïve optimism. Zayn kisses his cheek and squeezes his hand, telling him that she’ll be there for anything he might need; Niall does the same, but his kiss is messier—more drunk, really. 

Liam squares his shoulders and heads back to his flat. 

It’s dark when he opens the door, which isn’t much of a surprise. It’s well past midnight and both Harry and Louis were up early, so they’re probably asleep. Assuming they’re even here at all. Just in case, not letting himself really hope, Liam tiptoes into the bedroom and doesn’t turn on a light. 

The relief that washes over him when he sees Harry’s curls splayed over one pillow and another duvet-covered lump on her far side nearly makes his legs give out. 

But it’s not quite right, either. They’re not curled around each other, haven’t left room for him to slip into the bed on one side and wrap himself up with them. There’s space between them for him to crawl into the bed, maybe, but there’s no way he could do that without waking them. Liam bushes his fingers across Harry’s shoulder softly and pulls the duvet up from around her waist so she doesn’t get cold, then grabs a blanket from the cupboard and takes it into the living room. The sofa’s not so uncomfortable he can’t sleep there for one night. 

Besides, he’s so exhausted from work he could sleep anywhere. 

\--

Liam wakes up the following morning with his back sore and his neck feeling like someone tied it into knots while he slept. He can’t hear Harry or Louis, which means they’re probably still asleep, and it takes him a few moments to realize he’s in the living room and remember why he’s not in his bed with them. 

When he opens his eyes, he realizes that he was wrong about them still being asleep. Louis is sitting in a chair that faces the sofa, staring at his mobile with his expression unreadable. 

“Morning,” Liam says. Louis doesn’t look up. Liam feels a little like he’s been hit, because it actually hurts how much he just wants Louis to look up and meet his eyes right now. He slept alone on the sofa and now Louis won’t look at him and—Christ, Liam doesn’t want this to fall apart. 

“Did you get my message?” he tries, speaking softly and—he hopes—gently. 

Louis nods. After an uncomfortably long silence, during which Liam examines his cuticles intently, he speaks. “Do you want me to leave?”

It’s a good thing Liam’s still lying down because if he’d been standing up he might have fallen over. Louis’s face is wholly guarded and he’s still not looking at Liam, but Liam knows his voice by now, and he’s feeling vulnerable. Not that he has any reason to be, because there’s literally nothing Liam has ever wanted less in his life. 

“Because you and Harry, yesterday, and then you ran off to work and slept out here. If you want me to go, I can.”

Liam’s struggling to find words at the worst possible moment; he doesn’t know how to tell Louis that he can’t bear the thought of him leaving, that it wouldn’t be the same at all with just him and Harry. 

“God no,” Liam finally forces himself to say, and it’s all kinds of inarticulate but at least it’s heartfelt. Louis still looks uncertain, closed off. It’s so unlike his easy smiles and laughter and teasing that Liam’s heart hurts, but he’s not sure how to approach him now. He can’t make eye contact; Louis’s still staring at his mobile. 

He nods, just once, and the tiniest portion of the weight on Liam’s heart lifts. It’s nowhere near enough, but he doesn’t know how to make it right, either. 

It takes Liam a moment to pry himself off the sofa—he’s stiff in all sorts of strange places—but he succeeds and crosses the room to press a kiss to the corner of Louis’s mouth. It’s soft, a little lingering, and despite the conversation they just had, Liam finds himself hoping it won’t be the last time he ever kisses Louis. 

“It wouldn’t be the same without both of you,” Liam says when he pulls away. He can tell it’s not enough; Louis’s face doesn’t light up again, and he doesn’t tug Liam back down for another kiss or reach up to pinch at one of his nipples the way he usually would. 

Liam considers trying to make breakfast, but he’s never mastered anything more complicated than cereal or toast and besides, Harry will just pout at him if he keeps her from making them some elaborate Saturday morning breakfast. During the week, they’ve been contenting themselves with scrounged morsels of their dinners and occasionally toast, but Harry seems to really enjoy cooking for them all and, well, in addition to the good food, Liam really enjoys seeing her happy. 

Eventually she does wake up and come into the living room, wrapped in the duvet and dragging her feet. She’s rubbing her eyes and Liam wants to hug her, press his nose into the warm crook of her shoulder. Instead, he trails his fingers across the back of Louis’s shoulders and kisses his cheek. 

Louis’s cheek is slightly cool; Liam wonders how long he spent sitting in the living room by himself, watching Liam sleep and thinking about how they probably didn’t want him around anymore. It’s more than a little horrible. He needs something reassuring to whisper in Louis’s ear, something to fix them. 

“Shall we try to steal the duvet from her?” Liam asks, and Louis finally meets his eyes. He doesn’t look as gleeful about it as he would have before, but it’s something. Louis’s eyes have gone narrow and mischievous and he grins at Liam. 

Without words, they both bound across the room and snatch the duvet out of Harry’s sleep-slowed hands. She turns slowly and pouts at them. 

“Heeeeeyyyyy,” she says. 

“You snooze, you lose,” Louis says. 

Cackling, he flings himself onto the sofa and curls up under the huge duvet. Liam crawls under it next to him and drops his head onto Louis’s shoulder, nearly dozing off more than once while he watches Harry make breakfast, which she does without complaint—excepting a few frowns she sends in their direction. 

It feels a lot closer to normal, but they’re not there yet. Louis’s arm isn’t wrapped around Liam’s shoulders and he hasn’t moved to hold Liam’s hand once this whole morning. 

“Have you talked to Harry?” Liam whispers. It might not be his place to ask, but he’s affected by the strangeness as well. And he needs to know what Harry might have said—if she regrets what they did yesterday.

He thinks he regrets it, because for all that it was amazing sex, it’s more than outweighed by the way Louis looks so fragile and uncertain. 

“She apologized as well,” Louis says. 

Liam nods. “I really am sorry. That it happened, not just that we hurt you.”

He doesn’t meet Louis’s eyes, because he can’t handle seeing the hurt there anymore. Harry is making eggs and bacon, it looks like, and Liam watches her moving not-quite-gracefully around the kitchen. 

Another morning, he and Louis would have been caught in a full-fledged tickle war by the time Harry was finished cooking, but today they just sit in silence. Everything is too quiet—Louis isn’t chattering, Harry isn’t singing along with the radio, no one is laughing. 

\--

“I think we need to talk about this,” Harry says, pushing her empty plate away from her slightly. “All of us together.”

“The eggs are amazing,” Liam says, and then the broader context of what she’s said sinks in. “Oh, right, yes. We should.”

None of them seem willing to be the one to start, though, just staring a little awkwardly at each other. Liam's not sure what to make of Harry and Louis's discomfort—they've seemed so comfortable together this whole time, he's felt like the odd one out more than once but now Louis is offering to leave and. Well, maybe Liam's not the only one who's felt like the awkward third friend. Maybe they all have.

That changes a lot, somehow. Or maybe it doesn't change anything, Liam's not sure. 

"We shouldn't have done it," he says finally. "Not without talking about whether it was okay."

Louis still looks unhappy, and he doesn't say anything. 

"Really," Harry says. "We need to decide whether it's okay, if just two of us _can_ have sex or if we all need to be there."

Liam can feel himself blushing; he's never been good at this part, at talking about sex and what he wants from it. Harry reaches over and pinches his cheek. "We won't tease," she says. "Well, not yet anyway."

Louis is smiling, though a bit wanly. He does reach over and tweak Liam's nipple; Liam lets him, catching Louis's hand when he goes for a second pinch and lacing their fingers together. 

"It would have been better with you," Liam says to him. "I kept wishing you were there as well."

"Me too," Harry says, smiling. "You're not allowed to leave unless _you_ want to."

Louis squeezes Liam's hand and reaches for Harry's across the table. He doesn't say anything but the guarded look on his face drops. Liam wishes he had a free hand to hook under Louis's chin and pull him up for a kiss. He's not properly kissed Louis since yesterday morning when Louis crawled out of bed in the half-light of a time Liam thinks of mainly as "too early" to go to work and they'd hauled him back down to be thoroughly kissed before he could shower. Louis had let himself be pulled back into the bed and kissed them both before he dropped quick pecks to their foreheads and left. Harry had snuggled up to Liam, burying her face in his shoulder, and gone back to sleep. Liam had lain awake for a good while longer, feeling her warm breath against his neck and thinking about how sickeningly happy he was. 

"I'd miss you terribly," Liam says. He considers listing off all the things he'd miss doing with Louis—teasing Harry, going for too-long bike rides, dancing ridiculously around the living room, having someone to make him smile after a difficult shift at work—but it's too many things and Liam can't find a way to put them all into words. 

Luckily, he has Harry to help him out with these things—maybe she's just had more practice at this, or maybe she hasn't had it blow up spectacularly in her face, or maybe she just knows Louis better. 

"We wouldn't be us without you as well," she says. 

This time, Louis's smile is perfectly genuine and Liam can't help himself smiling back. The feeling in his stomach—in his heart, in his whole chest—is a lot like love; he doesn't think it'll take him long to be properly in love with both of them. 

And then Harry's leaning across the table to kiss Louis—once softly and then again harder. Liam watches them together, easy and comfortable, and he remembers the first time he ever saw them kiss. This is so similar, the way they know each other's bodies, and yet so different. He knows so many of the things they know now; he knows that Louis likes kisses like this, delicate and heartfelt, and he knows that Harry likes nothing better than making other people happy.

When she pulls back, she says softly, "It's okay if we agree we don't have sex without all of us. That's pretty normal."

Liam stares at her, trying not to gape. Nothing about this seems especially normal; Liam has hardly even considered that other people might have problems like these, that there might be something like a normal for them as well. He kind of likes the idea of it, though—there are so few things they all do together, between their schedules and their interests. Keeping one thing just for them seems nice.

"I'd rather like that," Liam says. Louis hums noncommittally, but Liam suspects he'd like it as well. Louis is fond of loyalty and takes relationships very seriously, Liam's already sorted that much out. It makes sense he wouldn't like Liam and Harry sleeping together without him. Liam didn't like it much either, when he really thought about it. 

"Me too," Harry says, and then: "That's the majority, Lou, so unless you speak up now..."

"Thank you," Louis says, smiling close-mouthed but sincere. 

Liam kisses him, because Louis still looks the tiniest bit shaken, and because he's wanted to all morning, and because he wants Louis to understand how much he matters, and because a thousand ridiculous things like his grin when he plots pranks on Harry and the way he tucks his head up under Liam's chin to watch TV and the easy way he plays with Harry's hair until she's completely blissed out. There's too much feeling for it to all fit in his heart, really, and he tries to let some of it escape through the kiss, his lips soft against Louis's until Louis relaxes into it. Liam doesn't unclasp his hand from Louis's, but he does wrap the other around the back of Louis's neck, stroking at the vein on the side. 

It's Saturday; none of them have anything to do until Liam's shift at the pub in the early evening, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time they'd spent the whole afternoon in bed. He wants to touch Louis all over, kiss all the places he hasn’t managed to yet and in a desperately clichéd way, he wants to show Louis exactly how much he would be missed. 

He hears Harry push her chair back and stand up, though Liam’s too enamored of the touch of Louis’s mouth and the way their fingers are laced together to turn toward her. 

“I’m going back to bed,” she says. “And I’m taking the duvet with me. You two are welcome to join me, or you can just snog in the kitchen all morning.”

Louis pulls away from Liam just enough to hum and tilt his head consideringly. “It’s a difficult choice, Haz. We might need a minute.”

Liam’s a little ashamed of the noise he makes in the back of his throat. “I can’t suck you off in here,” he says, hoping it comes out more seductive than tentative—or desperate, because he’s trying not to focus on how much he wants to do it, now he’s thinking about it. 

“Never mind,” Louis calls out, a little gleeful. “Liam makes a compelling argument.” 

And then they’re both scrambling out of their chairs, fingers still laced together, and when Liam knocks his over, he doesn’t bother with righting it. He does pause to kiss Louis again, quick and hard and not-quite-chaste. Louis smacks his arse, just hard enough to sting, and yells, “Don’t start without us,” to Harry. 

\--

Harry does anyway, because she’s nothing if not a brat, especially in bed. When Liam finally makes it to the bedroom, after having been pressed into the wall and kissed until he couldn’t remember how to breathe by Louis, she’s down to her knickers and bra and one hand is trailing up and down her inner thighs, clearly teasing. 

“Impatient,” Louis says, not quite pulling off the surliness Liam thinks he was aiming for. And then he throws himself onto the bed and grabs Harry’s hands, pinning them above her head. She giggles a little, squirming up against Louis, and Liam can almost see the smirk that’s probably on his face. 

He learns up against the doorframe, watching as Harry stops squirming and relaxes into Louis’s grip, and then as Louis leans in just a bit farther to kiss her. She makes a soft noise into his mouth and Louis lets go of her wrists to wrap both hands around her waist. They move so beautifully together, arms and legs and heads always in sync; even if he’d never seen them together before this moment, Liam would have known how close they were. 

He’s reluctant to interrupt. They make such a pretty picture and getting to watch them is nearly as nice as participating. Nearly. 

Louis breaks the kiss and turns around. His eyes are really strikingly blue, Liam notices for what feels like the thousandth time. “Are you coming?” he asks, voice a little rough. 

“Yeah,” Liam says, because the alternative was never really a choice. Watching is spectacular but falling into bed with Harry and Louis is better than anything he could have imagined every time it happens. 

As soon as he’s next to the bed, Louis goes up on his knees and wraps a hand around Liam’s neck to drag him into a slow kiss. The angle is off but Louis’s tongue is in his mouth and Louis’s hand is on his neck and they’re pressed against each other and, well, Liam’s not going to complain. 

Distantly, he feels movement against his stomach—Harry’s hands, squirming between them to push Louis’s jogging bottoms down. And then Liam’s, and he’s still kissing Louis but now they’re separated by boxers and worn t-shirts and Harry’s hands, which hardly count as separation at all. Liam thinks the t-shirt Harry’s wearing—too baggy for her and nearly worn through—may actually be Louis’s, but he’s seen them both in it so many times he really has no idea. Regardless, he wants to tear it off her, and Louis’s shirt off him as well. 

Louis is easier to reach so he pushes for that one first, not coordinated enough with Louis sucking marks under his jaw to do much more than push at it helplessly, hoping that Harry gets the message and helps out. 

She does, pulling Louis away from Liam’s neck gently and tugging his shirt over his head. Liam immediately takes advantage by flicking at both of Louis’s nipples, a little too hard to be entirely sensual. But Louis pushes into the touch regardless, and Liam’s mouth forms a small “oh.” Harry catches his eye and smiles knowingly. He’s not sure where her hands have disappeared to, but he thinks she might have one of them on Louis’s arse—mostly because who _wouldn’t_ touch Louis’s arse if given the chance. 

Eventually—several lingering kisses and a lovebite Liam sucks against Louis’s collarbone later—they manage to get themselves all horizontal, Harry crawling out of the way and Louis falling onto his back and pulling Liam down with him. Harry pushes at Liam until she can lean in and kiss Louis again; Liam reaches down to entwine his fingers with Louis’s again. 

They’ve not discussed it, not even with hinted glances at each other, but he and Harry are clearly on the same page about lavishing Louis with affection being the final step in making up to him for yesterday. Her hands are moving across his chest gently and Liam is just circling his thumb on the back of Louis’s hand and they have all day to do this. 

Still, he did say he would suck Louis off, and it would be rude to not follow through on that. So Liam slips down Louis’s body, pressing haphazard kisses to bits of skin that seem particularly appealing—the soft skin of his stomach, the pointed jut of his hipbone, the line his boxer-briefs makes on his thigh. 

He peels Louis’s underwear off, traces the now-familiar lines of his cock with his eyes. It’s hard and reddened against Louis’s stomach; Liam knows what it tastes like, now, knows what it feels like when Louis is trying desperately to keep from thrusting into his mouth and what it tastes of when Louis accidentally comes down his throat. 

Liam licks his lips and feels himself swallow hard, because for all that, he still has to remind himself that he can do this. He’s not experienced—not yet, he allows himself to think for the first time—but Louis has been patient and more than enthusiastic for Liam to practice, and Harry had given him pointers, smiling a little smugly while Liam’s cheeks flamed. He wraps his hand around Louis’s dick, firm but not too tight, and jerks him a few times. Louis’s stomach tightens visibly, but if he reacts vocally, Liam can’t hear, the sounds swallowed by Harry’s kiss. 

Taking a deep breath to steady himself—he can do this, he’s done this before, Louis won’t decide he needs to leave because Liam doesn’t give the best blowjobs in the world—Liam lowers himself to press a kiss to the tip of Louis’s dick. It’s just the slightest bit wet there, and he opens his mouth to suck around the tip. 

Louis keens, audible even with the way Harry is kissing him hard and messy; Liam can see their tongues when he looks up through his eyelashes. The sight makes him swallow involuntarily and Louis thrusts up. 

“Sorry,” he says, voice tight. Liam can just make out how swollen his lips are, and there’s nothing he can do but stifle his moan by sinking down farther on Louis’s cock. 

Liam closes his eyes against the sight of Harry sliding down Louis’s chest to suck one of his nipples into her mouth; it’s too much, he can’t watch that and focus on working Louis with his tongue, pressing it against the vein and swallowing around the head. It’s more than a little overwhelming—the scent and taste of Louis all around him, in his mouth, and the feel of Louis’s hand against the back of his neck. Liam can barely remember how to breathe, much less how to make his mouth work. 

Louis’s hips jerk up again, and Liam moans involuntarily when he feels Louis’s dick slip in farther. It’s strange and unexpected and takes a bit of getting used to but—he doesn’t mind. Liam doesn’t know what caused Louis’s movement, not with his eyes squeezed shut, but he assumes Harry is doing something wicked. He wraps one hand loosely around the base of Louis’s dick and tries to convey wordlessly that it’s okay for Louis to move his hips. 

And, somehow, Louis understands. He doesn’t thrust harshly or fast or hard, but just rocks slowly into Liam’s mouth and Liam lets him. The noises Louis starts making—unmuffled by Harry’s kisses now—are more than enough reward. 

When Louis comes, it’s not a surprise, not really. Liam knows how his pitch changes, how his legs go tense and then shake as he comes down. He knows the way Louis’s come tastes in his mouth—once, memorably, Harry had kissed him before he swallowed and had literally licked it out of his mouth. She doesn’t do that this time, but as soon as he’s wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, she hauls him up by the shoulders into a long kiss. 

Eventually, Louis makes a vague noise of displeasure. “Share,” he says, except he sounds so wrecked Liam actually feels his knees go a little wobbly. 

“We haven’t all got off yet, greedy,” Harry says, though she pulls away from Liam to lie down pressed against Louis’s side anyway. She’s grinding against his hip, though, slow and maybe unconscious. Liam wants to put his hands on her. He always wants to put his hands on her, the way he always wants to kiss both of them and sleep with Louis’s head pillowed on his shoulder. 

Louis smirks at her and tugs Liam down against his other side, jerking him off with sloppy and irregular motions as soon as Liam’s within comfortable distance. It shouldn’t be enough to get him off, but somehow the memory of Louis’s dick in his mouth and Louis’s hand on him and the soft noises Harry is making rubbing herself off against Louis’s other side tip him over anyway. 

When Liam is able to form coherent thoughts again, his first is that Harry will be a brat if she has to get herself off and demand they both go down on her later. Not that either of them would exactly put up a fight. Or mind, for that matter. 

But for now, Liam’s not especially interested in doing anything but curling closer to Louis—who’s now absently licking Liam’s come off his fingers, Jesus _fuck_ —and resting for a bit. 

Louis twists away from Liam and reaches down with the hand he’s not got in his mouth. Liam can feel the moment he gets his fingers on Harry, because the bed shakes when she shudders. It’s not long before she’s shaking and coming, and Liam isn’t surprised. Louis is good with his fingers, knows how to work them deftly. Breathing deeply and audibly, Harry curls up against Louis’s side as well. 

“Don’t ever leave,” Louis says after a long moment, almost too quiet to be heard. Liam’s stomach twists with guilt and fondness and something that might actually be relief that Louis is as invested in this as he himself is. 

“Never,” Harry murmurs. 

Liam just kisses Louis’s neck and stretches the arm draped across Louis’s waist the tiniest bit farther so he can lace his fingers through Harry’s and hopes that’s enough to convey his meaning. 

Besides, he can always spell it out after round two, which will probably start as soon as one of them regains the will to move.


End file.
